


awake and unafraid

by laurel_crown



Category: Bourne (Movies), Bourne Legacy (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurel_crown/pseuds/laurel_crown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron sees a familiar face at the market.</p>
            </blockquote>





	awake and unafraid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crescent_gaia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescent_gaia/gifts).



> Title from Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance. I've had a vague desire to write Aaron and Jason meeting for a while, and your prompt was all it needed to spark off - enjoy!

This was _not_ happening.

Somewhere in the back alleys of Aaron’s mind probabilities were being calculated: coincidence (low) or premeditated (higher). But why would one rogue agent look for another from a completely different program?

Yet here he was. Jason Bourne, in the flesh. He certainly looked more tired than he did in the media photo.

Aaron quickly discarded the intended meeting theory – Bourne was obviously suspicious from his third glance and was moving down the stalls to see if he would follow. The last thing Aaron needed was a punch-up with Treadstone’s poster child, but he really wanted to talk. It had only been a couple of weeks since it had all blown over, but Bourne had been hiding out for years: surely he could help them-

_Them._ Marta. He was supposed to be looking for Marta, to check she had just gotten distracted on the shopping trip – she could spend hours with those puzzle boxes. He doubted this place even had a police force but that didn’t mean much. Marta had a certain magnetism for trouble.

Aaron walked on, not entirely hiding the fact that he was searching for someone; maybe that would put Bourne at ease, wherever he’d vanished to. He doubted it. Marta was fifteen minutes late and here he was, scouring the market for her. How much more paranoid would Bourne be?

He was just wishing Marta’s hair didn’t blend in quite so well when he heard her voice, the American accent jumping out from the wash of conversations. And there she was, perfectly safe, full bag in her lap while she argued with a fortune-teller. 

Okay, then. Aaron focused on the wider world in time to feel someone too close behind him. Before he could move, cold metal pressed against his spine.

“I thought I’d made myself clear.” The voice was male, American, and angry.

“Easy.” Aaron turned his head so he could speak quieter. “They’re after me as well, Bourne. I’m not here for you.”

The gun bit a little harder. “Then why do you know my name?”

Seriously? The man was all over the news. “You carved it into the bunk bed in Alaska.”

There was a long pause, then finally Bourne put the gun away. Aaron stayed still, and Bourne stepped into his line of sight. “So I _don’t_ know you?”

Aaron frowned. “No.” Unless they’d met before the CIA had messed with them, which was ludicrously unlikely.

Bourne looked relieved, though Aaron didn’t see why. “You’re not Treadstone, either.”

“I’m Outcome. What’s left of it, anyway. After your little stunt, they tried to kill us all off …” Aaron paused. He’d turned to gesture at the fortune-teller’s table but Marta wasn’t there.

“Aaron?” Marta poked her head round a bolt of cloth. “I’m sorry, I lost track – who’s this?”

“Jason Bourne,” said Aaron. Bourne twitched, like he still hoped to keep his identity secret, but didn’t say anything.

Marta raised her eyebrows. “Oh.” And she walked up to Aaron, dumping the bag in his arms then leaning comfortably against him. Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d ever managed to deserve a woman like her.

_She wouldn’t be with you at all if she hadn’t been forced to hang around,_ a snide voice whispered in his mind. _And she wouldn’t look at you twice if you were Kenneth._

Aaron forced his thoughts elsewhere, and noticed Bourne seemed to be doing the same – mouth tight, face averted. So he hadn’t always travelled alone, then. Aaron didn’t want to know what had put the pain in his eyes.

Marta nudged his arm, obviously getting bored. “Are you two going to stand there and brood, or can we have a little fugitive bonding session?” The background noise of the market swelled, and Marta raised her voice over it. “Hey, I think the lady was trying to tell me about some parade. Yeah, look!”

People were dancing down the street towards them, sweeping up shoppers and giving them colourful banners to wave. Drums, pipes and bells clashed in what Aaron guessed was music; it was hard to hear over the shouting (no, it did _not_ count as singing).

“Come on!” Marta grabbed their wrists and pulled them into the throng. Aaron stifled his automatic response, instead finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder for the bag. And then they were in the middle of the crowd, and Aaron couldn’t control where he was moving without breaking several bones. The colour and noise of it all felt altogether too much like his fever, and from the look on his face, Bourne didn’t like it either.

“Look at you!” Marta laughed. “I thought you were _deadly assassins_ trained to blend in anywhere you had to! You can at least pretend to enjoy it, hmm?”

Bourne shot Aaron a half-hearted glare, and he raised his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t blame-”

Marta cut him off by cheering as someone handed her a paper monstrosity. Aaron opened his mouth to tell her the banner looked wrecked when she put it on his head. Bourne snorted.

“Happy whatever-festival-this-is! No.” Marta slapped his fingers away. “You can’t take it off, it’s bad luck!”

Aaron took her hand, gently. “Alright, Doc.” She rolled her eyes but grinned at him.

Bourne muttered in his ear. “Look, Aaron …”

“Cross.”

“I gotta go.”

“Ah.” Aaron faced Bourne carefully, trying not to dislodge the hat while the crowd buffeted them. “Any advice for me?”

“Keep moving, the usual …” Bourne’s gaze rested on Marta, dancing a little further away. “And hold on to her.”

“Oh, I will.” Marta caught his eye and Aaron smiled at her. “With everything I’ve got.” When he turned back, Bourne had gone. Aaron wished him all the incomprehensible, papery luck in the world.


End file.
